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 Nov 2019 ConnectHook
Mark
Folksy blokes, like ya struttin’ ya thang
If you’ve come out of da Grand Ole Opry
But, won’t stay around for any old music sang
If it’s causing their head, to bob up and down and go all floppy
While rugged mountain men riding in some country rodeo
Can just step right up, to a Appalachia recording studio
Put down several tracks and become a worldwide pop star
They sing about hillbilly ways, while cogging or flatfooting from afar
Talking ‘bout wild hogs, gators, foxes & how so many more
Taste so great, using leftovers as bait & making real men roar
Old fables, told through pictures and patterns, upon knitted quilt
Even showing the feuding days of the Hatfields versus McCoys
From both sides of Tug Fork stream, with many unemployed  
Although Asa and Devil Anse, said, ‘they hadn’t much guilt’
All because of a judge and 5000 acres of unusable swamp land
Once owned, by a close kissin’ cousin named, Perry Cline
Who didn’t even get any blood on his hand
They started a war, that could’ve been stopped
By a bottle or two, of good ole mountain moon-shine
Both clans almost wiped out, if last man standing had accidentally dropped.
Now I lay me down to sleep
To slip into enchantment deep
Where roving mermaid colonies
Inhabit warm Calypso seas
With coral calls and starfish smiles
Crisscrossing uncharted miles

And from the waters wild but fair
We gaze at prowling ships up there
Rolling o’er our rippled sky
And peering down through plastic eyes
As if to draw us up by hooks
Into their lair of thieves and crooks

But no, among the waves I’ll stay
Until the harsh rays of new day
Consume this world of rare delight
And force me far from dreamy night
(Until another day subsides
And draws me back toward turquoise tides)
Norman Rockwell weekend
Faded baseball gloves
Slick stones off the water
Fishing for lost loves  

Boathouse Road revival
Rope swing double back flips
Red serape twilight
Rolling back for night dips  

Adirondack north woods
Boy Scout jamboree
Telling age-old stories
Felling age-old trees  

Back seat back road banter
Front seat small town blues
Lukewarm diner coffee
Corner TV news    

Swearing off old demons  
Swearing at red lights  
Chasing down old crushes  
Long into the night    

Headlights on the highway
Headlamps in the mines
Mountains in the rear view
Main Street on my mind  

Norman Rockwell weekend
Corduroy on wool
Campfire snap and sparkle
All-nighters to pull
A bright new sun and playful wind,
Threading wooden hulls,
Along the canvas of the sea,
Propelling billowing clouds,
Along the burning morning sky,

A bright new sun and wings of wax,
Dripping onto an exposed back,
Flying, hoping,
Burning,
Falling,

A bright new sun and a cold, endless sea,
Quenching flesh in brine,
Soothing youthful innocence,
The canvas swells, clouds left rolling,
As a new sun rises, the day begins.
The is an ekphrastic poem about The Fall of Icarus, a painting by Pieter Bruegel.
 Oct 2019 ConnectHook
Kara Jean
My thoughts shaking
I'm trying to find my composure
Swallow my tears along with the worlds fears

I see a face a 15 year old girl
Arms placed upon her lap laced
Brave and afraid of the unknown
Illiterate she held her own
Freedom was her new home

So many have fought and died, even today for its name

Still I have no clarity of freedom's meaning

Free to love?

Free to worship as we please?

Free from evil and hate?

Or is it equality?

To me it seems we are in desperate need of a refresher
To be reminded what it should be

To have FREEDOM
#PCJuly2016Freedom
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